Friendly Advice from an Unlikely Source
by KateToast
Summary: On a hot day in District 4, Gale doles out some advice that gets Peeta thinking.


**XXX**

It was humid in District 4. The only relief from moist, clinging clothing was the cool breeze coming up off the blue water, and even that only came in short spurts. The sun was hot, bearing down on the cobblestones and making everything look whitewashed. Peeta lifted a hand to shade his eyes. He realized, as he scanned the crowd for his wife, that she had left him in a very uncomfortable position, and it wasn't just because he felt like he was melting.

Beside him, Gale crossed his arms over his chest, surveying the seaside playground, dark brows furrowed as he squinted. He and Katniss both got that look in their eyes sometimes, that hunter look from a lifetime ago. Peeta had never been able to replicate the gaze, his wife always laughing at his attempts. He allowed his eyes to wander, easily spotting the intense little boy that Gale was watching, digging furiously in the sand. He looked the perfect mix of his strong, tough parents.

The two men had not exchanged words for some minutes, not since right after the women had disappeared, and Peeta was beginning to feel awkward. He'd realized, moments after Katniss had left, that he and her old hunting partner/best friend had never spent any lengthy time together – and most certainly not alone. The last legitimate conversation they'd had was probably at the end of the war, right before the bombing…

"I can't believe how hot it is," he finally said.

Gale nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to another, gaze never leaving the playground. "I've heard the middle of summer here is the hottest in the country… Katniss should've warned you."

"It was a last minute trip," Peeta said. Katniss's mother, working at the hospital here, had fallen ill – not sick enough to cause a panic, but enough that she was taking time off from work and suggested her daughter and son-in-law visit. The Mellarks hadn't even realized that Gale and Johanna would be in the area for work at the same time until Annie had mentioned it.

Peeta knew Gale was a man of few words – at least fewer than Peeta, though most everyone was less wordy than him, and so silence reigned once more. At home, in District 12, Peeta had grown used to the quiet that would fall in the house, understanding that Katniss didn't always need or want chatter. Here beside his old romantic rival, though, Peeta didn't like it.

"Henry's quite the active kid," he tried again.

Gale's stoic face broke into a grin, teeth glinting in the bright sun. "Just like his mom."

The little boy chose that moment to whip his head up toward the men. His mouth parted in a smile, revealing missing teeth. Even from this distance Peeta was struck by his gray eyes, so Seam, so Katniss and Gale. When Peeta was young, too young to understand things like class separation, he'd pestered his older brothers constantly, wondering why _they_ didn't have gray eyes like some of the other kids at school. His mother overheard this talk one day; Peeta had gotten a sharp rap on the knuckles and never wondered the difference aloud again.

Peeta glanced at Gale. He had always been handsome, girls sighing after him in the school hallways, women eyeing him appreciatively in town. Some silver streaks now ran through his black hair, and his forehead had permanent creases. Peeta wondered if Gale noticed these same changes on him, the way his blonde hair had grown a touch thinner, the way crinkles sat at the corners of his eyes.

"He looks like you, though," Peeta noted.

Gale chuckled, waving to his son. "I suppose. Johanna had hoped he'd be the opposite: her looks, my personality… But you know, he's perfect as he is."

Peeta heard the pride in Gale's voice, the happiness. He watched as Henry lined up and considered an assortment of sand-related tools, strategy written on his small, serious features. Peeta thought that maybe the boy had inherited more of his father's personality than Gale realized.

It astounded Peeta that this moment was even happening: that he and Gale Hawthorne were standing in the hot sun in District 4, waiting on Katniss and Johanna, watching Henry Mason Hawthorne play in the sand. There were no Hunger Games in this child's future, in _any_ child's future. Suddenly Peeta wished Katniss would materialize so he could pull her close and smell her skin, brush a hand over her stomach, be reassured that this was all real.

"How about you?" Gale asked. Off Peeta's puzzlement, he clarified: "Don't tell me you haven't thought about what your kid is gonna be like."

Peeta offered a shrug and light smile, moving his hands to his pockets. "A little, I guess."

He was lying. He'd been thinking about what he and Katniss's child was going to be like since before having him or her was a reality. Before Katniss had decided she wanted kids, too. Before they'd been married. Before they'd even actually been together, back when he'd told a lie that had shocked the Capitol but in the end had been futile.

Above all, of course, he wanted their child to be healthy, and happy. Otherwise his vision changed daily, hourly even. He'd hope for a boy, a son to carry on the family name and, perhaps, the family business. Then he'd hope for a girl, a daughter who maybe liked painting, who maybe liked baking bread enough to take over for her old man one day. He'd hope their child was like him, with similar interests, a knack for expressing themselves, an easy nature. Then he'd hope their child was more Katniss: strong, resilient, unafraid. Their looks – well, Peeta was going to be in love with his child no matter their inherited features, whether it was blonde hair or dark hair, blue eyes or gray. Though he had always been drawn to that gray, piercing color more than any other.

Gale nodded, and Peeta swore he saw a quick, amused look of disbelief from the other man. Maybe Peeta was more obvious than he'd thought.

"My advice? From experience," Gale said, nodding towards Henry, who had coaxed another child into joining him in a systematic sand dig. "You can do all the imagining you want. You can try every combination you can think of for how this kid is gonna be. And that's a great way to spend the wait time, because what else are you gonna do 'til they arrive?" Gale smiled at Peeta conspiratorially, as if sharing a deep secret. "But for all that thinking and planning, that kid is gonna be nothing like you expected – in the best way possible. Because more than being some of you and some of Katniss, they're gonna be themselves. From day one, they're their own person. And it's pretty incredible."

Peeta was taken aback by the depth of Gale's words. All this time he'd only been thinking of which parts of he and Katniss would make up this child, which parent would define him or her more. He hadn't even considered the ways their child was going to define themselves.

"But it's almost impossible to actually prepare for," Gale added. "All you can really do is form some sense of the type of parent you wanna be… and hope you don't miss the mark too badly."

Peeta chuckled, from actual amusement and from nerves. He'd always thought he'd wanted to be like his own father: kind, and fair. But that was also the man that had allowed his wife to exert such control and violence on their children. And now they both were dead, and his brothers – at this point the closest thing either he _or_ Katniss had to a father figure was Haymitch Abernathy… which wasn't saying much, since the man could barely keep his honking geese alive.

Gale must have detected Peeta's sudden panic, because he said: "Have I freaked you out?"

"A little, I guess," Peeta repeated from earlier, but this time he laughed, and Gale joined in good-naturedly.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to."

"No, I'm glad you said all that. It's good to hear. Gives me more to think about." He paused, then glanced at the other man. "Just don't repeat any of it to Katniss and we'll be fine," he joked.

Gale lifted his hand and shielded his eyes to get a better look at what Henry was doing. "You guys'll be okay. If Johanna and I can manage it, you certainly can."

"What do you and I manage that you think Peeta 'certainly can'?" came a voice, and Johanna materialized beside the men, Katniss a few steps behind. "Nothing naughty, I hope," she added, giving Gale a saucy look as she handed him one of the bottles of water she was holding.

"Not at all," Gale returned, nodding towards Peeta. "Just boring work stuff. Shop talk."

Katniss was frowning at Gale as she handed Peeta a water bottle for himself. "That's not suspicious at all," she deadpanned.

"Then we can forget about it," Peeta said brightly, lifting his hand to rub Katniss's back.

"Well I guess now we know what happens when we leave you two together: you get weird and secretive," Johanna said. "Where's the kid?"

"Enjoying the sand," Gale said, gesturing in the distance. Henry now had three other children with him, and he seemed to be giving them instructions. "Let's see what exactly he's up to."

Once Johanna and Gale were out of earshot, Katniss leaned her side against Peeta's, his hand making small circles on her back. She stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Peeta asked innocently.

"You two are awfully chummy."

"Is that bad?"

"No. Just… unexpected."

"A lot of things are unexpected," he told her. "But I think that's part of the fun."

Katniss frowned at him, then put the back of her hand to his forehead. "Do you have heatstroke or something?" she asked him playfully. He chuckled and swatted her hand away.

"_I_ should be the one worrying about _you_, remember? Drink your water," Peeta instructed.

"So strange and bossy all of a sudden," she remarked, but she sipped her water. "Happy?"

"Very," Peeta said, kissing her cheek.

**XXX**

Later, in the dark, Peeta slipped a hand under Katniss's thin t-shirt, his palm resting on the slight bump of her stomach. Her head was turned towards him, and he knew she wasn't asleep – at his touch her eyes blinked open. Her smaller hand moved over his.

"I don't care if it's a boy or girl," he murmured, propping up on his free arm so his face hovered over hers. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of what Gale had said to him that afternoon.

Katniss frowned. "What?"

"The baby. I don't care if it's a boy or a girl. I just hope it's got a lot of you."

"Really?" Katniss stared at him. They hadn't discussed the baby too much yet – it was only the beginning of the second trimester, and Peeta had been trying to be considerate, knowing how his wife was struggling with impending motherhood. "I want it to be like you. We don't need another stubborn, careless Everdeen around the house."

Peeta smiled. "Good thing it'd be a stubborn, careless Mellark, then." Katniss rolled her eyes as Peeta moved his thumb over her skin. "We haven't really talked about it. What we hope the baby is like."

"I know," Katniss said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I understand," Peeta said. "It's just that Gale got me thinking about it."

"Gale?"

"You and Johanna disappeared for a while at the beach," Peeta explained. "He and I can be very civilized, even when left alone."

"I never said you couldn't," Katniss agreed. "It's just… weird to hear. Not in a bad way," she added.

"Henry is a great kid," Peeta said. "They're doing a good job with him."

Katniss was quiet as she moved her hand to cup his cheek. She was looking especially vulnerable – Peeta knew that she could only be like this in the night, when she could be sure it was just the two of them – too many years of prying eyes. "We'll be okay, won't we?"

Peeta smiled, leaning forward so his forehead touched hers. "I think we will," he assured, not for the first time, not for the last. "Gale gave me some pretty good advice."

"Oh? What was it?"

"That we'll be good parents."

"That's not exactly _advice_," Katniss pointed out.

Ignoring her comment, Peeta twirled his index finger around the dark strands of her hair tickling his chest. "I'm trying to figure out what kind of parent I wanna be," he told her.

Katniss didn't say anything for a few moments, the sounds of her mother's little house settling and the chatty insects just outside the open screened windows becoming louder. If he listened carefully, Peeta could just make out the rhythmic hush of the waves a few blocks away, and unbidden he thought of Johanna, who still harbored a minor aversion to water. He'd noticed at the beach how she'd barely let the incoming tide lap at her toes while Henry splashed away, oblivious.

"I'm not sure what kind of mother I want to be," Katniss confided finally, softly. "Prim was the nurturing one."

Peeta frowned at his wife, disbelieving. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "Katniss, I've hardly met anyone more fiercely nurturing and protective of their loved ones than you. I mean you – you kept your family going, and you were barely a teenager. You saved my skin more times than I can count. You fought a _war_ for the people you love."

"I fought a war so the country could start over," Katniss said, defensive to the praise. "And it wasn't like it was just _me_, it was _us_, _all_ of us."

"Be that as it may," Peeta relented, tugging the hair around his finger affectionately; her obstinacy simultaneously charmed him and drove him crazy. "Based on all of the previous evidence I've both heard _and_ witnessed, I have total faith that no matter the type of mother you choose to be, you're gonna be great."

"Well… back at you," she said, giving him a smile – for once just accepting the compliment he was offering.

"You think I'm gonna be a good mother?" Peeta asked teasingly, and Katniss rolled her eyes and shoved at his shoulder.

"The best," she countered.

He kissed her smirking lips then, because he couldn't resist. He wondered if she knew how much it meant to him, this chance she was giving him to be a father. For them to be parents, together; something Peeta had accepted wasn't in the cards for them – until, suddenly, gloriously, it was.

"We'll help each other," he said to her as they pulled apart, both of their heads settling back onto their respective pillows.

"I know we will," Katniss said, uncharacteristically optimistic as her eyes drifted shut. Something in the sea air, maybe.

Peeta fell asleep that night with Gale Hawthorne's words bouncing around in his head, getting prepared to be unprepared.

**XXX**


End file.
